When I say you are my number
one I mean in the line of infinity:
crystals in sand, the observable
universe, atoms in the pretzel of
our hands– we were in the back-
seat. You were in the middle
of a knot, trying to emerge
beyond the physics that
has no name to call us.
(originally published in Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Spring 2023)
Another gray sky day, empty gas tank worries in the countryside
nowhere don’t you long for my touch? Oz runs just far enough
for the bone against the backdrop of my outstretched arm
hand out fingers extended & I don’t know where I stand with Jessie
except she must find me pathetic as she walks into water under the
influence of Dr. Dog & now she swim-dances the past three days she’s
walked along the rock edge of the pool. & now I need to text Tony Z.
what’s a man most afraid of? I’m getting used to inadequacy. Oz brings
his bone to the other side of the fence. Jessie says she misses the green,
the pool purified at the beginning. Sara throws pong ball through
the hole of a lime lifesaver floatie and a butterfly metaphor soars
above the water. Have you ever almost drowned on drugs? I don’t
recommend it. The lesson is gravity’s not the occasionally falling apple
but the drifting leaf toward the other side, whatever the definition. September
third and we just got our first sunburns. Hannah leaves the house after
work and like a magic trick, three pong balls appear in the water
and the sun reveals itself a moment. Oz lays in the grass in front
of me before a philosophical discussion about casserole and how to cope
with beans bought at the beginning of pandemic we will never eat.
(originally published in KNOT Magazine, Fall 2021)
vocals rise night static the beach house we
sway to midi music call ourselves karaoke
machines what disappointment to not be
whole humid June familiar shadows
encroach the move I crack my song an egg
to thee to thaw cold exhibitions of the
bottle another popped Corona to thirst
for grand experiences cheaply the tide
a tape loop I do not sing the steady
hand of a lyric but rather the water
(originally published in Sybil Journal, Summer 2020)
Tell me your wildest
vacation fantasy. There,
we will visit our home.
I dream of caves–
stalagmite fingerprints.
The drop, the black bat,
meat. There,
we’ll forget light
and its animal skin.
(originally published in eGoPHobia, Fall 2019)
As the tide heartbeats forth,
my lovers return in salt.
Silver-winged seagull loses herself
& dives.
Yesterday I thought
I would be in love forever–
today, whiskey on my tongue,
sand in my eyes.
I want to find every person
I ever loved within the waves,
how navy shuts
thin books of light.
The line between sand & tide
is awash with wings.
Salt burns my mouth
& I am drenched
in your foam, milking
the sea for words–
the sea swollen with stories
we never told,
words we
never said.
(originally published in Common Ground Review, Spring 2018)
We spent the entirety
of our days together.
Now, the vacation from myself
is over.
There is a void beside me
unexplainable in the absence
of presence.
No one here will keep me
whole. Digging into darkness,
film, facebook, what’s real, what’s imagined,
why does it matter?
I want to caress your stomach in the sun
and know everything is okay.
(originally published in #thesideshow, Spring 2017)
we rode bikes laughing
the sun pedals woof wild
index fingers pointed mountaintops
hiking heat in flip - flops
canopy games spilled blue ink
blueing the vodka pool
on your knees you told me
it was too early
you like to be teased
That was
all we had.
(originally published in S/WORD - Issue #5)